


Embers

by Lily_Vipers



Series: Embers [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Vipers/pseuds/Lily_Vipers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol Marcus and James Kirk shared a drink on the Enterprise. Post Into the Darkness. “There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.” ― Bram Stoker, Dracula</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Embers
> 
> Category: Star Trek, 2009 
> 
> Summary: Carol Marcus and James Kirk shared a drink on the Enterprise. Post Into the Darkness. “There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.” ― Bram Stoker, Dracula 
> 
> Pairings: Carol Marcus/James Kirk
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Notes: I don’t really care for any pairings in this fandom (canon or non-canon), though the canon decision to pair Spock and Uhura was interesting. I thought I throw some love toward the Carol/Kirk pairing, since there's barely any fic out there that's wholly about them as a couple. There’s no real plot. Just the muse taking me whereever she wants me to go. [Had you seen Chris Pine in Hell or High Waters? Swoon worthy.] This chapter was inspired by Carly Rae Jepsen’s Higher. Check out her album, Emotion and Emotion: Side B. Both are amazing pop albums. 
> 
> Started out as a 500 words tidbit. Not sure where this came from. Not betaed. All mistakes are of my own making. 
> 
> My father used to watch Star Trek when he was a child. This is one way of me remembering him by.

The lights dimmed slightly, signalling the end of another day at the _USS Enterprise_ and giving the blackness beyond the various windows a more potent effect, a bottomless pit in the middle of nowhere _._ The crew was getting ready to retire for the day as those designated to stay up running the ship seemingly inhaled their evening cup of coffee. It was another day clocked in exploring what the universe had to offer, which recently was more empty space.

One could say the outlook was a bit gloomy. Repetitive, even.

However, there was structure and steadiness to the crew’s days, something that Carol Marcus craved for after the incident with Khan and her father. It was a day that she did not want repeating. She didn’t want to live through another terror and horror in her life, watching countless die for nothing. Power and fear should not be something to gloat about.

Her throat contrast slightly at the thought and her vision blurred.

 _Breathe_.

Carol paused her stride as she leaned her head against the wall of the ship. There was a slight roaring in her ears as the floor shifted a bit before her eyes.

_Slowly breathe in, Carol. Breathe out._

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

She lifted her head and glanced around, noticing the empty hallway, the sounds of shuffling a long ways away. She was alone, her blue uniform a stark contrast to the bright lights of the ship, even if it was slightly dimmed. A door opened and closed down the hall, voices filtering into hallway before being closed off from her.

Carol sighed. Good. She didn’t like having an audience when she was having one of her moments. She didn’t want to be pitied. McCoy said it was all part of the healing process and bullshit nonsense like that. (His words, not hers.) It been over a year and a half, and she still couldn’t get through what had happened. Shouldn't it be better by now?

But being here, on this ship and with this mission, it gave her some purpose in her life again. It gave her friends she could count on. Something to keep her grounded. (Even though she thought it was ironic that a ship traveling at warp speed through space was keeping her grounded.)

Anyway, tonight wasn’t about her. She wasn’t the only one feeling lonely and out of sorts on this ship.

Carol ran a hand through her hair, trying to straighten it out a bit as she entered a non-descript room with a bottle of scotch and two glasses in hand. She had a particularly difficult day, reviewing documents sent from the Federation, going through the routine safety checks on the _Enterprise_ ’s weapon stock, and, most importantly, ignoring much of the various members of the crew. True be told, she was not avoiding the entirely of the whole _Enterprise_ crew, because that would be an impossible task. Just those who were particularly close to the ship’s captain. (Though one could make an argument that it was the entire crew. They really love their captain.)   

Carol only asked Kirk if he wanted a drink with her. He said sure. End of story. No need for certain members of the crew to be up in arms about it. Carol could tell that the captain needed a drink. He needed time for himself. If it was with her, so be it. (She was also sure that Spock couldn’t get Kirk to relax and McCoy wouldn’t allow the captain to relax, though Carol wasn’t sure about her assessment on the doctor. Kirk and McCoy were close; the doctor probably knew more about the captain than anyone on the ship.)  

Carol sat down at the table, the glasses clinked as it made contact with steel. She sighed as she stretched her arms over her head. Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. She was early and she was sure Kirk had a full day as well. A captain’s job was never done, and all of that. There were no timesheet for him to clock in and clock off. He was always on the clock. Besides, the ship’s gentle hum and slight rocking was basically begging Carol to put her head down and close her eyes. Nights of barely sleeping was starting to take a toll on her.

All of the sudden the door to the room creaked open, letting in the bright light from the hallway. Carol blinked away the stars in her eyes as she turned around and saw the captain stepped into the room, rubbing his eyes and ruffling his hair along the way.

Carol gave a small smile as she made eye contact with Kirk. “You’re early,” she said, exhaling a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.  

“No, you mean to say that I’m late,” replied Kirk. He quickly crossed the room, footsteps echoing painfully loud in the room, and slumped down in the chair next to hers.

Carol glanced at her watch and pointed, making sure Kirk noticed the time. “You’re twenty minutes early.”

“Well, I had a plan to be here before you, so technically I was late,” said Kirk, smiling to see her retort.

Carol said nothing as she placed an empty glass in front of Kirk. She reached over and poured him a drink before doing the same for herself. “You know, Uhura tells me to never have a drink with you,” said Carol, trying to gauge Kirk’s reaction to her statement. “Something about a sob story with the right amount of liquor will have me waking up with more than just a hangover.”

Kirk raised his eyebrows. “Everyone has a sob story,” he replied. “No one had a perfect life.” He picked up his glass, clinked it against hers, before taking a sip.

“It all depends on who has it worse, right, Captain?” asked Carol. She watched as the amber liquid finally settled in her glass, before raising it up to Kirk in gesture then taking a sip.  

“Right,” agreed Kirk. His shoulder slumped a bit more as he rested his arms on the table, letting the day he had rolled off his body.  

“So,” began Carol. She leaned over to Kirk. “Tell me your sob story. What do you say to have all the girls falling for your charm?” It was something that she wanted to know for some time now. However, she never saw it in action since she came aboard on the ship. The only time Kirk let loose was when he tried to get Spock to act in any other manner than his logical self.

“I have a charm?” asked Kirk. The way he was smiling at her was not just an accident, Carol was sure. Of course he had charms.

“You must have to leave all the girls broken-hearted,” she replied. She took another sip of her drink. “Remember Christine Chapel?”

Kirk tapped his index finger against the table as he thought back on the name, before snapping his fingers. “The friend?”

Carol gave a playful, soft whistle. “You only remember me saying her name, huh?”

Kirk shrugged, not disagreeing with her statement. “That’s unfortunately true,” he confessed. He leaned over a bit, his elbows nearly rubbing hers. “I’m also sure that Uhura was not the only one who had a say about us sharing a drink.”

Carol mirrored his shrug and leaned back into her chair. “Spock might had said something.”

The captain could not help but smile at that statement. “Spock interjected himself to the personal affairs of others?” he asked, hardly believing what he had just heard.

“No,” said Carol, shaking her head. “Well, yes.” She thought back to the conversation she had with the Vulcan. She never knew where she stood with him, or if he even cared about her since she asked him to withhold information from the captain back when she forged her entry onto the ship. The Federation inquiries afterward dealing with the aftermath of her father’s plans and Khan’s actions left almost everyone involved drained, frustrated, and empty. “He told me that there’s a 84.7% that any species of the female sex, especially one society deemed attractive, who shared a drink with you alone will result with you and her having sex.”

Kirk nodded his head, eyes away from Carol. “And you agreed to that proclamation?” he asked, eager to hear her thoughts on the matter.

“No,” she replied, stretching out the affirmative. It was nice to hold all the cards for once. “I agreed to his next proclamation.”

“His next proclamation?”

Carol let the silence last a bit longer before she finally said, “There’s a 98.3% probability that this will end up with me throwing a drink in your face and giving you a black eye.”

Kirk almost choked on his drink, coughing up the liquid that went down the wrong pipe. “Those are not good odds.”

Carol shrugged, eyes gleaming. “Good odds for me.” She gave him a wide, playful smile before drowning the rest of her drink.

Kirk laughed, the sound filling the room and Carol’s ears. “I think Spock will reconsider the odds when he hears that you were the one who asked to have a drink with me and not the other way around.”

“Why?” asked Carol, feeling the need to embarrass the captain over his reaction to her invitation. “You wanted him to see you stumble over your words?”

“I was caught off guard,” Kirk quickly said.  

“And you saying yes after a minute and immediately leaving helps you reestablished your guard?” asked Carol.

Kirk reached for the bottle to fill up her empty glass before filling up his, not liking where the conversation was heading. “I don’t like having an audience. People watching, making judgments.”

“You like having an audience if you’re the one controlling them,” retorted Carol. It was the truth. She had seen many diplomatic visits led by the young, seemingly naive captain here to know when he was playing the room. Kirk needed to be the one to control the roll of the dice. He lived for it.    

“I don’t think Uhura constitute an audience,” said Kirk, trying again to explain his earlier behavior. See, control. He had an image to project.    

“She was the only one who noticed and was happy to share the news with the rest of the crew,” replied Carol. She always like bringing him down a peg or two. Or a couple dozen. Anything to keep his inflated ego from expanding. (However, he hadn’t been acting like his old self in awhile, especially after the Khan incident, or what she thought how Kirk must had acted before he met her and her father. The stories she heard from Christine and her description of Kirk was not present in the man before Carol. Let just say that stories about his academy made its rounds.) “You want to hear how the other reacted after being told what happened?”

Kirk sighed, accepting that the awkward conversation they had earlier indeed happened and  his _friends_ had opinions. “Sure.”

Carol poured more scotch into Kirk’s cup, almost up to the brim, before she said, “When McCoy heard that we were having drinks, he just asked me if I was on something.” She did the same with her glass, satisfied that both glasses now had the proper amount of liquor to get them through the evening. “Then he asked me if I lost a bet. When I said no to both, he just said that whatever thing we have between us two will be doomed.”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” quickly said Kirk, tone seemingly firm. He slightly moved away from Carol.  

“It what I told him as well.” She pretend she didn’t noticed what happened.

“And the others?”

Carol took a huge gulp from her drink. “Chekov was genuinely confused and Sulu just nodded his head and went back to work. No one has found Mr. Scott yet.” She placed her arms on the table and rested her chin in her hands, palms and fingers cupping the bottom half of her face as she stared Kirk straight in the eyes. She could see why Christine fell for him. He had alluring blue eyes. “I think next time when I asked if you want to have a drink with me, it shouldn't be at the bridge, even though Uhura was the only one perspective enough to notice our conversation. That's a miscalculation on my part.”

There was a note of surprised in his voice. “There's a next time?”

“Don't push your luck,” said Carol. She only had one bottle to begin with. Next time he's bringing the alcohol.  (She not saying there’s a next time, but just in case.)

Kirk gave Carol a warm smile. “They care about you."

“You mean they care about you. They tolerate me,” retorted Carol. She saw the depths of their affection for their captain first hand. Kirk put his crew first, before even giving a single thought about himself. There was a sense of family aboard the _Enterprise_. Carol hadn't reached that point yet in her relation with the crew; the guilt still nagging on her conscious months after the fact. It didn't hurt to try, on both their parts.

Kirk seemed to sense her doubts, as he edged back closer to the blonde. “I’m expendable and there’s only one Carol Marcus.” He always made her feel included, especially back in the early days of their five year mission, asking her about her day or inviting her to sit with him and various members of the crew during meals.  Carol thinks McCoy must had something to do with it, hinting to the captain about her state of being. But she had no proof. It was nice that someone cared, even if it was out of obligation.

Nevertheless, Kirk really knew when to turn on the charm, didn't he? Carol wasn't sure if she should trust what he had just said. Or accept the declared statement as fact and fall into the abyss. “There’s more than one James Kirk?”

“I like to think so,” said the captain, as if he knew something she didn’t. “Off somewhere in an alternate reality,” he off-handedly said, trying to justified what he just uttered.

“Won’t I have an alternate counterpart as well?” she countered. It would be nice to meet someone who shared her life and experiences. Carol would want to know if her counterpart was able to prevent her father from doing what he did. How would her life have played out? Or were they both doomed to make the same mistakes, no matter which reality they were in?

“I’m sure she won’t have one blue eye and one green eye,” said Kirk.

Carol was taken back. That was actually nice of him to say. Not original, but it took her mind off of her father, something that was rarely done these days. “The go-to compliment every guy makes with me.”

“You can't fault me for the compliment,” said Kirk, his tone light and warm. “You do have one lovely blue eye and one lovely green eye. They’re captivating and immersive.”

There was a slight tinged of pink beginning to form on Carol’s cheeks. “Now I’m sure you’re teasing. Besides, I'm pretty sure I have other qualities that are not aesthetics related.”

Kirk gave a playful sigh. “Then I actually have to work for the compliment. And, you know, have an honest conversation with you.” He acted as if that would be the hardest job in all the galaxies combined.

“Exactly.”

Kirk shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Carol rolled her eyes at his remark. Deciding to change the course of conversation, Carol said, “So, tell me your sob story. Does it involve your father?”

Kirk gave a small chuckle. “How did you know?”

“Who doesn’t have daddy issues?” Carol was careful to not meet his eyes as she said this.

“It’s not really a sob story. Just things I wished I did with my father.” Kirk filled his glass up again with scotch. Maybe they should slow down. How much did they drink already?

“Okay,” said Carol. “What kind of things?”

“Stupid things,” uttered Kirk.

“Nothing is stupid,” said Carol, her voice providing comfort.

“Well,” began Kirk, “there was one thing I always wished I did with my dad, but that could be said for every son or daughter out there: I wanted to play catch with him.”

Carol paused slightly as she was reaching over for the bottle. She mulled over his words, wondering if he ever admitted this to someone before. Was he testing her to see how she would react to his statement? “That’s not stupid,” she said without hesitation. “It doesn't hurt to wonder from time to time.”

Kirk gave Carol a glance before settling his gaze on his drink. “I wanted him to be there when I graduated from the academy.”

Carol swear his voice shook a little. “And?” she asked.

There was a pause in their conversation. Carol could hear the hum of the ship and voices from beyond the door. No one was interrupting them. There were no worlds and no cities to save from danger. It was just her and the captain sharing a drink.

“I wanted him to be here today to see what I had become,” said Kirk. Carol wondered if he ever said that to anyone out loud before. A heavy ended statement to end the day.

“He would had been proud,” replied Carol. It was true. Any father would had been proud of what Kirk had done so far in his life. He was a hero to so many. He changed the course of history. Carol still needed to figure out her place in the universe.

Kirk glanced back at Carol, holding her gaze with his. He was usually closed off, adopting a nonchalant attitude towards life, subconsciously or purposefully taking Spock’s cue. Carol could relate. Sometimes the universe was too much for her to handle as well. “I want him to be here today to share a drink with me on my birthday.”

Her gazed didn’t faltered. She could see that he didn’t feel ashamed in his admission. He wanted her to know about this, something personal and close to heart. What did he see in her? What did she see in him for her to ask him to have a drink with her all alone in a ship filled with other souls? “Well, hopefully I’m not a poor substitute.” She felt honor that Kirk was spending the end of this particular day with her.   

“No,” replied Kirk. He finally looked away. “This is perfect.”

They continued drinking their scotch. A sip here and there. There was a comfortable silence. Carol couldn’t help but think that McCoy was wrong. Whatever she and Kirk had wasn’t doomed. It was blossoming. She just didn’t know where this was going to lead her.

“Thanks, Carol.” Kirk’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “For doing all of this.”

“It wasn’t my idea actually,” she admitted. It truly wasn’t. She wished it was wholly her idea, however.

“Who idea was it?” asked Kirk.

“The Vulcan ambassador.” She could see the small smile on Kirk’s face. She didn’t even know that they were that close. “He literally handed me the bottle of scotch.” The captain raised his eyebrows at this particular statement. “Yes, I was surprised, too.”

“Well, I got to tell him thanks, I guess,” said Kirk. He was studying the label on the bottle. “Though I'm not sure when you had a chance to meet with him.”

“It was awhile ago.” said Carol. Should she tell him the truth? It was a bit embarrassing that she held the bottle for so long. “He just told me that I'll need this someday and if there was a probability of sharing this with a certain captain on a certain day, then so be it.”

Kirk nodded his head as he processed what he had just heard. “Then how did you know that today was my birthday.”

“It's a well known fact, Kirk,” said Carol, wondering if she might be scaring him off with knowing a personal detail. “Your father died a hero.”

“Your father did some good,” replied Kirk.

How did he know that she was doubting what her father meant to her? Did he really care that much about her to follow up on her well being? Carol hadn’t even mentioned to McCoy anything closely related to her father. Only issues about Khan and the aftermath of the attack. The state of fear of being stuck forever at that point of history, reliving the day over and over again.

“But he also did some bad,” admitted Carol. She made sure her voice was steady and even. Nothing to betray what she was currently feeling. “Pretty bad things. It's what history will remember him by. It’s what I still need to work on to get over it.” Carol didn’t mean to say that last sentence and she hoped that Kirk didn’t read too much into it.

There was a sudden burst of laughter right outside the walls, disrupting the two. Carol turned to stare at the steel door, before returning her attention back to the company at hand, a bit glad for the interruption. She noticed that Kirk didn’t react to the disruption. He never turned his attention away from her. Feeling uncomfortable, she said, “Anyway, tonight shouldn’t be about me. Tell me the sob story. Give me every embarrassing singular detail.”

Kirk chuckled softly. “You do _not_ want to hear the sob story.” The warm breath tickled her neck as the captain leaned over a bit, smelling of mint and expensive scotch.  

“What did you say to all those girls to sleep with you? Come on. Give it up.” Carol smiled, feeling amusement at his embarrassment.

Kirk shook his head. His eyes light up with warmth and delight. “It won’t work on you.”

Carol playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying to try to get me to sleep with you. I’m not going to sleep with you. I just want to hear the story.” She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a teasing smile.

“Promise you won’t throw your drink in my face and give me a black eye?” asked Kirk, referring back to an earlier part of their conversation.

“And give your second command a heart attack?” she asked. Actually, that would be fun. Carol could see why Kirk liked messing with his second in command.

“That would be a plus.”

Carol sighed. “I promise I won’t give you a black eye.” She wasn't planning to anyway.

“Or throw your drink at me?” asked Kirk, his voice teasing and light.

“Now you’re just taking the fun out of it.”

“Carol.”

“I promised,” she finally agreed, before quickly adding, “Only because this is really expensive scotch.” And there was a running bet of the ship on how long this _thing_ would last, running from two seconds to two minutes. She wanted to win the pie.

“Okay.”

Carol smiled as she took stock of the man before her. Maybe they both had it wrong. Maybe there was something going on between them. Or maybe this was all in her head. But looking at Kirk, the way he smiled at her as he stumbled his way though the story he must had told countless of time before, this felt right, her being here with him sharing a drink. She wasn’t the only one who had lived through that day with Khan. And maybe they could both build the pieces back together.

It was time to move on.


End file.
